


Golem

by Morrigayn_DeWyvern



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Horror, M/M, Medical Procedures, Necrophilia, Rape, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrigayn_DeWyvern/pseuds/Morrigayn_DeWyvern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knock Out gets revenge for Silas' use of Breakdown's remains.</p>
<p>I don't own anything other than my ideas.  I don't make money off of my writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In Jewish folklore, a golem is an animated anthropomorphic being, created entirely from inanimate matter. Similarly, it is often used today as a metaphor for a brainless lunk or entity that serves man under controlled conditions but is hostile to him under others.

“You have earned your place at Knock Out’s dissection table, Silas.” Megatron said coyly.

Knock Out cackled in daemonic glee at those long awaited words and shoved his electric prod deep into the abomination’s back struts. Bolts of plasma and electricity arched through the being. It screamed as the electricity danced and popped over the broken and scarred armor. It fingers jerked and quivered as its back arched in agony. Human skin bubbled, charred and smoked from the heat of the frame surrounding the distorted and corrupted body. The stumps of amputated limbs twitched and relayed signals to the Cybertronian corpse in which they were integrated.

When the charge dissipated and Silas collapsed, Knock Out grabbed the monstrosity by hooking his fingers into the armor between the cranium and shoulder plates. Knock Out slowly drug the creature to his medbay basking in its pleading and promises to Megatron and finally sobs as Silas realized its fate.

“Hush now, no…what is that you human’s leak…ah yes, tears. No tears…it is a waste of good suffering.” Knock Out intoned as though a mother speaking to a child. Silas ceased its pleas but groaned in pain from the jostling and bumping as it was drug along the floor of the Nemesis. Knock Out hummed a playful tune as he walked.

The Decepticon medic, a Vehicon drone and the golem slowly made their way into the bowels of the Nemesis. The air was stale and thick. Lights were dim as energy was diverted to the upper decks where the Decepticons lived and worked. Dust heavily coated the walls, the lights and the floors. Knock Out, Silas and the Vehicon left trails to mark their descent into the bowels of the Nemesis. This deck was reserved for the prison and interrogation, and Knock Out’s dissection room.

Knock Out quickly keyed the security codes to his dissection room. The door whooshed open. The scent of vanilla and roses wafted out cloyingly thick and wickedly sweet but it could not cover the foul, acrid odor of rotting protoform and burned energon in the room. In the gloom, chains could be seen hanging at regular intervals along the ceiling ending in wickedly sharp hooks or strong, sturdy cuffs. The chains and hooks were thickly coated with old energon and bits of dead protoform flaked here and there. On the walls hung serrated knives, saws, drills, pliers and other implements of vivisection and torment. In the center of the room was a metal berth with manacles and a drain set within to draw fluids to its center and to be shunted down toward the recycling and reclamation systems of the Nemesis.

Knock Out inhaled deeply and smiled. The memories of the twisted and deformed caricatures emitting tormented wails and shrieks played through Knock Out’s memory banks.

Knock Out turned to the abomination and bowed with a flourish, “Welcome to your new abode, Silas. I am sure I will enjoy your stay.” Knock Out dropped the creature. It groaned in pain. The Vehicon took its silent place beside the door to stand sentry. 

“What? No more pleas or promises, you abomination?” Knock Out asked.

“Fuck off, robot!” Silas growled out amidst the agony. 

Silas was coming to understand the abilities of the anathema he was. He could feel the rush of self-repair nanites from the wreckage of Breakdown making their way into the layers of burnt flesh sloughing away the dead and repairing the live. Nerve endings were exquisitely tuned to the agony. Silas, if he were able, would have vomited at the pain of exposed nerves and rebuilding tissues, the sensation of dead flesh sloughing and oozing way from his human body, feeling of creatures burrowing through him.

Knock Out smiled evilly as he pulled his prod from his storage and proceeded to electrocute Silas. He screamed, howled and cursed. The abomination jolted and trembled. Its hands and peds beat an uneven rhythm on the metal floor. Knock Out pulled his prod out of the body of Silas. Knock Out gathered the golem up and carried him in bridal style into the dissection room. Silas twitched but did not fight Knock Out. Knock Out gently laid him on the dissection berth and cuffed him in. He proceeded to run a few scans and frowned.

“Well, Silas. You need some rest before the main event and some energon. It seems that squishy body of yours is injured but the Cybertronian self repair is working. Curiouser and curiouser…I wonder. I’ll have to wait to dig in to the soft, squishy center.” Knock Out inserted an IV of energon into the creature’s venous ports.

“Let me go, Knock Out. I can make it worth your while.” Silas whispered.

Knock Out chuckled, “Oh, I doubt you have anything I would want.”

Silas laughed softly, “You know it is interesting what I found in Breakdown’s memory files…”

He sent the commands for the interface panel to retract. The large spike slowly rose from its housing and the valve began to lubricate. “I was quite surprised to find out we are more alike….I can be anything you want…” Silas whispered in the breathy aroused baritone, tonals and inflections of the dead, Breakdown.

Knock Out looked furious for a moment before he began to howl with laughter. His armor rattled from the strength of his laughter. He held himself and leaned down to look Silas in the optics. “First, Breakdown would never prostitute himself, and you are not him no matter how you play at deception. Secondly, you are exactly what I want, fool. My pleasure and desire…rarely indulged.”

Silas tried to head butt Knock Out, but the vain doctor easily dodged the feeble attempt.

Knock Out turned to leave the room and flicked the switch off. “Rest well, Silas.”

The door closed with a swoosh. Silas could hear the ped steps of Knock Out fade into the nothing. He supposed that the drone was still standing watch. He ventilated heavily. The unreleased spike a dull ache and the valve wet and uncomfortable. Silas wished he had taken the time to experiment with this new form before now. He had been precipitous in his actions and now was paying the price. With time, the interface panel finally closed with a snick. Silas stared into the darkness thinking about what was to come, and how to turn it to his advantage.

Silas noticed the dark was not true. Light and reflections from the Nemesis found its way in to the dissection room from small crevices and cracks. Shadows and demented demons slid along silvery walls at the peripheral vision of Silas only to disappear every time he turned to look. He heard whispers and felt faint eddies of air as something seemed to flit around him.

“Who are you?” Silas asked the dark and tried to pull on the cuffs to no avail. He turned the massive head to and fro but finding nothing in the mocking dark and silence. He could see chains and hooks gently swaying.

A dim, gibbering, gurgle was the only answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Silas slid into an uneasy, light sleep. He would jerk awake at small sounds-a whoosh of air through a vent, an echo of peds walking in the upper decks, the continual, uneasy whispering. He cursed into the dark at his own weakness, pain and stupid trust that he had something of value to give Megatron. When he did sleep, the pain in his body and the protoform of the golem would wind terrible nightmares that would jar Silas back to waking leaving him gasping and sweating in the effort not to scream. Finally, he dozed and drifted between awareness and the edges of slumber.

Hard steps jarred Silas out of his fugue. They were louder and seemed to be making their way to his cell. He turned the giant head toward the door and waited expectantly. The door opened and in stalked a Vehicon carrying a cube of energon. The lights flared to brilliant white when the drone entered causing exquisite pain in the optic and eyes of Silas. Without a word, the ground based Vehicon pried the oral intake of the golem open, inserted a wedge to keep it open, and proceeded to force a tube down its throat. Silas tried to fight by tossing the helm back and forth, but the Vehicon simply activated a switch which magnetized the berth. The abomination lying upon it was frozen. Careful not to touch the creature, the Vehicon attached a funnel to the tube and proceeded to pour the energon down its oral intake. Silas could feel the flood of energon hit its fuel tank. Once the cube was empty, the Vehicon silently turned to exit deliberately leaving the funnel and tube in the oral intakes of the anathema as well as the berth magnetized.

Silas stared at the ceiling. He noticed a small spider skittering across the ceiling. He used the optic of the dead Breakdown for a better look. To his utter surprise, the spider was organic and from Earth. He wondered how the spider came aboard, and how many other organic passengers had snuck into the Nemesis.

Knock Out hummed as he rode the lift down to the bowels of the Nemesis. He was aquiver with excitement. His spark hammered erratically in its chamber. Cold shivers ran down his circuitry. The anticipation of agony and ecstasy was almost too much to comprehend. Megatron had been particularly generous. He inserted a digit inside a seam of his armor. He fingered the materials under the armor. The material was black and gleaming with the dull shine of well-oiled leather though it was a material of Cybertronian make. Knock Out’s dentals gleamed in the light of the lift as he smiled widely and malignantly and tugged on the materials. The lift came to a halt with an abrupt bounce. Knock Out removed his digits from between his seams and composed himself into the usual haughty pose and sashayed out of the lift to his private laboratory. He leaned against the door to listen for movement or moans. When nothing was heard, he scratched his razor sharp talons across the door. High pitched screams and squeals erupted. He then tapped the door. Still no sounds came from within.

“Wakey, wakey, Silas!” Knock Out said as he entered the chamber of torment. 

Knock Out noticed Silas was rigid and unmoving with a funnel and tube down the creature’s throat. He then noticed the magnetism effect was onlined on the berth.

“Ah, so that is why you are so silent…Vehicon caught your tongue?” Knock Out chuckled at the sight. 

Knock Out immediately turned off the magnetism and ripped the tube from the oral intake of the behemoth strapped to the berth.

Silas arched up in agony as the tube was torn free from the oral intake and phantom pain in his organic throat. He tried to swallow and flex his throat and intake. 

“Gah!” Silas gasped. 

That was all he was able to enunciate. Energon and spittle droplets spattered on his faceplates as they dripped from the tubing. Knock Out arched an optic ridge at Silas but said nothing. He put the tubing away in a storage space. Knock Out then went to a corner and began to carefully remove his outer armor and hang it in a closet that was heavily lined with materials to prevent scratching.

Silas’ breathing finally slowed, and the agony retreated. When he was aware of his surroundings again he noticed Knock Out in a corner, and he appeared to be undressing as much as Silas could figure though he had never thought the outer armor on these beings were capable of being removed. Silas cursed himself for his over eagerness to please Megatron and the lost chance to truly discover the wonders of this body. Pieces of immaculate and gleaming armor were removed with delicate reverence by the vain medic and gently placed in a closet that seemed designed for the purpose of keeping the armor. What was revealed shocked and repelled the cyborg and chilled him to the core of his soul. Knock Out coyly looked over his shoulder strut at the creature on the berth with a small coquettish smile. Then he turned to face the golem and spread his arms to show his beauty off.

“Isn’t it lovely, Silas?” Knock Out turned slowly.

Knock Out’s protoform was a collage of scars, piercings and strange materials. Scars rippled and puckered in phantasmagorical forms on his arms. One could almost see faces of screaming and horrified Cybertronians in the mass of keloid before a movement of Knock Out’s would cause the scars to ripple and lose coherence. Barbs, hooks and rings pierced and tore the protoform derma on his chest in long lines. Some were old and cleanly healed. Others oozed energon at the new placement. Bright metallic and black ribbons were lashed and tied around and through the piercings and their openings to make a surreal spider’s web on his chest. As Knock Out turned, Silas groaned to see the ribbons coming out of openings on his back tied into other rings, barbs and hooks. Each movement caused the ribbons to slide, and the wounds and metal to shift, open and close. There was a crust of dried fluids around some of the impalements.

At Knock Out’s waist was a kilt made of that soft, black, oily looking material. It hung to his knee struts. Silas could make out stains of energon and other fluids upon it. Down his legs hung chains that disappeared under the skirt and were expertly impaled through his ankle joints to move fluidly as he walked. Cylas wondered at what macabre thing Knock Out had hiding under that kilt.

Knock Out walked slowly to the tools of his trade hanging on the wall. He brushed a single fingertip against them as he walked down the row. “Hmm…which one to start with…mustn’t be impatient and greedy….would lose the perceptions and pleasure in haste.”

Silas wondered in silent horror what devilment Knock Out had in mind as he lovingly caressed the wicked implements. Finally, Knock Out chose an implement. It was a long, fine blade that ended in an exquisitely sharp point. Knock Out drew it across his forearm and watched with pleasure fogged optics as the protoform derma opened like a flower. He turned the knife on its point and easily slid it deeper into his forearm. Cylas screamed as the point appeared from the other side.

“Perfect!” Knock Out whispered in reverence for the obscene thing which he had done. 

Knock Out turned toward Silas with tears running down his optics. “Now, we shall worship at the altar of experience.”

He slowly walked toward Cylas with an unholy, maniacal gleam of obsession and passion in his optics.

Silas closed his optic and human eyes praying to a God in whom he did not believe for deliverance.


End file.
